


Things That Happen After Blowing Your Bar Mitzvah Money On A Wintergreen Tic-Tac

by stellar_astrophel



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Constructive Criticism Welcome, Fluff, Jeremy angst, Multi, Pining Chloe for a chapter, Pining Michael, Pinkberry, Rich's lisp is written phonetically, Short Stories, Small warnings will be listed in before notes for each chapter, Sorry I dont know how to tag kiddos, boyf riends — Freeform, one shots, squip is only here for like one chapter so far lmao, theres fluff too, ugh sorry i cant tag and im awkward
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-13
Updated: 2017-08-12
Packaged: 2018-11-30 16:18:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11467179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stellar_astrophel/pseuds/stellar_astrophel
Summary: Drunk Shenanigans, Dogs, Froyo, and lots more. That's what.A collection of BMC one-shots/short stories that take place after the SQUIP-y stuff. Some shippy, some not, a little bit of everything I suppose!♡ requests are welcome kiddos!! (This is like 96% my own weird ideas tho tbh) feel free to comment one if you want!♡[[[Back from hiatus!!]]]





	1. Getting Drunk (and Having Your Best Friend To The Rescue)

     Michael paused the game. He was just about to level up his character, but his phone had vibrated, tearing his attention from the virtual world on the TV to the real, lonely atmosphere of his basement.

     It was a late Saturday night, and Michael was surprisingly without Jeremy and wasting the time away with video games (and some weed earlier). Not that he cared,  _of course._  Jeremy had more than one friend now. So did he. The only difference was, Jeremy was actually able to agree to going to some kid's house party with the rest of the gang.

     Just the day before, Chloe had mentioned it during the group's usual Pinkberry meetup ("I dunno, it could be fun if we all go together,"). Michael had instantly tensed up, trying to think of a better excuse than, _"I would, but have I mentioned that I don't like going to parties?"_ while bouncing his leg to match the racing pace of his mind. He set down his cup of frozen yogurt, appetite fleeting. The other teens surrounding the table gave their affirmations. Save for Jeremy, knowing the shorter boy sitting next to him all too well.

     "We don't have to go if you don't want to," He turned to whisper, setting a hand on Michael's shoulder. Michael was able to breathe a little better now, solemnly grabbing his friend's arm to pull back down.

     The topic had blown over rather quickly once Jenna decided to spill some details on the latest happenings of Dustin Kropp. With everyone now listening intently to the drama, Michael could put off the question haunting his mind until after they ate and bid their goodbyes to the group in the late New Jersey air. He swallowed a lump in his throat as they walked across the parking lot, a golden reflection from the setting sun bouncing off anything it hit.

     "Don't you wanna go?" Michael asked, swinging open the driver's door of his old PT Cruiser. Jeremy couldn't hide his lagged response and darting eyes in time for Michael to not notice.

     "Nah!" He finally blurted. Michael watched as he slumped into the passenger seat with a questioning arch in his eyebrows.

     "Dude," 

     "I mean, yeah, I-I guess," Jeremy admits, squirming a little.

     "Then _go_! I'll be fine for one night, man," at the time, Michael really believed it. Why wouldn't he be?  _Jeremy can do shit without me. I can do shit without Jeremy._

    "Really? You sure?" Jeremy's eyes lit up, half with delight and half with suspicious concern.

     "Psssh, of course!" Michael nonchalantly gave a thumbs-up before twisting on the engine, causing the car to vibrate to life and automatically blast some obscure song. "Just double the games with me Sunday and we can call it even,"

     Now, Michael wished he had kept his big mouth shut. The better part of his conscience knew it was the right thing to do, Jeremy wanted to go,  _blah blah blah._ He sighed, tossing his controller to the (empty) second beanbag. There was a problem that had finally come to his attention during the Halloween party: Michael was almost entirely dependant on Jeremy, no matter what angle he looked at it. Lately, he had been trying to fix the problem, but  _god damn was it hard._ Especially when he didn't want to bring it up to Jeremy.

      _It's not like he needs more of my issues thrust upon him._

In fact, there had been a few more Jeremy-related feelings Michael hadn't wanted to dissect into yet. He had been keeping his "crush" (he didn't want to admit it as such yet) under wraps ever since the play, but it had always found a way to constantly drone on in the back of his head.

    With another  _bzzt_ from his nightstand, Michael was saved from falling into a never ending vortex of thoughts. He trudges over to his phone, now practically buzzing off his charger with notifications. He unlocks the phone with a confused pout.

_**6 Unread Messages From '☆Player 2☆' !** _

**☆Player 2** **☆**

_mmiskeynntyyyyhdhq_

**☆Player 2 **☆****

_mimey help i ned u_

**☆Player 2 **☆****

_come fuchin get ne_

**☆Player 2 **☆****

_me lolololokokl_

**☆Player 2 **☆****

_hrlp heo hep help_

**☆Player 2 **☆****

_dud bro bab midnerl_

_(☆Player 2☆ is typing...)_

    Michael stared at his screen, blinking a few times to just take in the texts and endless flow of new ones. He's...drunk. Sure, they've drank a little before, but had never gotten wasted _. I'm a stoner, not an alcoholic._ Tapping out a response, Michael couldn't help but feel a little better knowing his Player Two needed  _his_ help.

**Me**

_Omw bro!!! Just hang tight k?_

  **☆Player 2 **☆****

 _!!!!thabk u ily_ _!!!!!!!!;+!_

    "I-L-Y?" He mouthes, quoting Jeremy's latest text. _That's new._ Seconds later, he shakes his head in an effort to hurry up and pull on his hoodie to get to Jeremy.

      _He's just drunk._

 Michael gets himself out the door and driving down the street in two minutes flat.

* * *

 

      _"Thank you, I love you"?_

     Michael held the steering wheel even tighter as he pulled into the yard of a two story house that was overflowing with teens. He recognized some as people he'd pass in the halls, unseen by ninety-nine percent of them. Others wore jackets and jerseys of rivaling schools ( _Great, everyine and their mither were here_ ) _._ Every single kid he saw on the porch had some form of alcohol in their cups.

       _"Thank you, I love you"_ The text echoed through his mind. Why was it bugging him so much? Well, of course he  _knew_ in the pit of his gut, but why now specifically? Jeremy had said "I love you" before. He'd never done it via text, though. The notion itself sent Michael's stomach into uncomfortable loops.

      _He's DRUNK, Michael. Drunk texts don't mean anything,_ he assures himself one final time before hitting shuffle on his phone, pulling on his huge (noise-blocking) headphones, and quickly striding out of his car and across the yard to face the swarm of people. Parties, especially ones like these, stressed him to no end.

      _The things I do for you, man._

The headphones did help, drowning the sounds of the event with Bob Marley cranked up as high as the volume could go. Michael navigated as best he could, keeping his head down and winding past tons of people swaying drunkenly to whatever was playing through huge stereo speakers at the front of the living room.

     However, the headphones didn't  _stop_ his anxiety completely. While the sound was blocked from his senses, he could still feel the vibrations of the bass throughout his spine with every beat, and smelt the booze on the breaths of a hundred teenagers. He felt his heart speed up and his breath catch if he bumped into someone dancing away their problems.

      _The faster I can find Jeremy, the faster I can get out of here._

     Finally, after what felt like ages and  _ages_ of mindless wandering, he found Jeremy. He was just barely able to see the taller boy on the other end of the next crowd of party goers. Needless to say, he was alive.

      _Well, define alive._

     Jeremy looked like he was trying to dance in the corner of the room, but really just leaning against the wall and flailing a little every now and then. Michael felt a wave of relief crash over him as he speedwalked over, muttering "excuse me"s and "pardon"s to whoever he had to push over in the process. He only took off his headphones when he was two feet in front of his buddy and waving doesn't get his attention.

     "Dude?" Michael had to practically shout over the song to hear himself. This caught Jeremy's attention, bursting into a grin and leaning into Michael's hold.

     "H-heeeeeeeeeey," Jeremy hollered, sounding incredibly gleeful, "Yer heeeere! Fiiinally! Eeeveryone else got tiiired a-and BAAAILED! Can yooou bele-  w-waait, dude, _how_ did you come?" (his voice cracked on the "how", but he didn't seem to care).

      Michael could only laugh at how out of it Jeremy truly was.

     "I...drove here?"

     "Oooooh! Duh!" Jeremy breaks into a laugh like it was the funniest fucking thing he'd heard in his life. Considering he rarely laughed this hard sober, Michael laughed right along with him and savored every adorably awkward noise Jeremy made.

     _God, he's so wasted._

    "How many drinks did you  _have?_ " Michael asks, beginning to escort his buddy out of the party (internally cringing at the too-loud atmosphere swallowing him whole). Jeremy furrows his eyebrows and hiccups.

    "I'm NOT drunk!" he whines, collapsing more into the smaller boy. Michael stumbles a little and holds him up as they near the end of the porch, his chuckles making it easier to ignore the anxiety building up in his torso.

     "Not what I asked, but I call bullshit anyway. Now get in the car before I have to stay here any longer,"

* * *

 

     Little did Michael know, getting him out of the party would be the easiest thing that he would have to put up with that night.

     "Wh-what tiiime is it?" Jeremy blubbers, leaning against the closed passenger window, searching for any visable stars. The moonlight hitting his skin almost makes his rosy cheeks seem glowing blue.

     "Like, one-fifteen?" Michael estimated. The last time he had checked his phone was before he had gotten into the car, and it was around 12:45 PM if memory served right.

     "In the  _morning_?!"

     "Pfft, yes, in the morning!" Michael had to try extra hard not to let his laughter stray him off of the road. Suddnely, Jeremy jolts up, mouth gaping open.

     "W-Where'sa fucks my _phooone_?!" He yells, absolutely crushed.  _Note to self: Drunk Jeremy asks a lot of questions._

     "Calm down, bro! In my back pocket, you were 'bouta drop it earlier," Michael explains, shrugging while he speaks.

     "Giiiimme!"

     With that, Jeremy lunges over the seat into Michael's lap. This alone would've caused him to have a panic attack had he not been at the driver's wheel. Jeremy, blissfully unaware of the possibility of crashing, keeps squirming over to reach behind his friend's lower back and steadily _downward_. Michael can feel his face heat up uncontrollably as his friend is sprawled on top of him trying to get his hands in the back pocket Michael's jeans. The car swerves a little when Jeremy is a little _too_ eager and rough to grab his phone.

     " _Dude_!" Michael screeches, reaching an octive he had never thought to be possible. "You're, like,  _groping_ my ass!" he barks, but Jeremy doesn't seem to care as he yelps out a small "Gottit!" and scoots back.

     Michael has to force himself to keep his eyes on the road, using peripherals to barely see Jeremy's figure moved back, but still on Michael, wrapping his arms around Michael's hips from sideways.  _Isn't he uncomfortable on top of the cupholders and console and shit?_ This doesn't help Michael drive any better, half convinced he could crash into someone's house any second. He tightens his grip on the steering wheel, feeling himself sweat a little with a blushy, bright redness overcoming his face. Jeremy's still there, not showing signs of moving anytime soon.  _Note to self: Drunk Jeremy is somehow more clingy than Sober Jeremy._

     Michael stiffens up, cursing the universe for whatever cruel being that set this onto him. Part of him wanted to believe this was Jeremy's cognitive decision making, but he knew this was just because his crush was under the influence.

     "Whaaat's wrong with you?" Jeremy's voice is calming, but is it's own kind of intimidating when Michael knows it's altered by the beers and anything could fall out of his mouth at this point. 

     "Huh? Nothing,"

     "Nuffin' my _ass_ ," Jeremy speaks into Michael's hood, causing butterflies to escape from his friend's stomach and wreak havoc on his entire body. When he doesn't get a comment, he continues.

     "Izzit 'cause I touched yours?"

     Michael thinks it's best to swallow a response and keep driving.

     "M'sorry,"

      _Focus on the road. Just focus on the road._

     "It's nice, though,"

      _This is it. This is how I'm going to fucking die._

     Michael's _so_ close to getting Jeremy home. Originally, he had wanted to let him crash in the basement, but now Michael doesn't think he'd live the night in Jeremy's current situation. Michael thinks he might just melt if Jeremy is left to talk to him like this for any longer.

      _Note to self: Jeremy thinks I have a nice ass._

_Ugh._

_Note to self: Jeremy is FUCKING DRUNK._

     He's pulling into the driveway, finally looking down to see what's been keeping the other boy silent for so long. Said boy is back to laying face-up, head finding a nice place on Michael's lap (how exactly, he's not in pain from leaning across everything between the two seats, neither knew for sure) and boring those wide gray-blue eyes into Michael's huge almond ones.

     "You're so hot," Jeremy breaks the silence, shattering whatever composure Michael has left into a million pieces. If he wasn't blushing before, he was now, if he wasn't shaking, he  _definitely_ was now. Jeremy only stares back, seeming to flush over with a pale red as well. The fact that he looks absolutely beautiful in that moment doesn't help Michael in the slightest.

      _Blushing is a good indictator he has sobered up at least a minuscule amount._

_Note to self: Jeremy might mean it._

_No!_

_Note to self: Jeremy is a crazy fucking drunk._

"Michael?" Jeremy sits up a little, biting his lip.

      _Note to self: Jeremy is drunk off his ass._ Michael's mind repeats, now quickly becoming some kind of mantra. His mind is racing with good throughts, bad thoughts,  _other_ kinds of bad thoughts. He settles on the one he knows to be the most true. The one that has practically saved him tonight.

     "You're _fucking_ drunk,"

     It comes out a lot more bitter than he had intended.

     And according to Jeremy's face, it's surprising to him too.

     "No! I- I just mean, that, ugh, y'know, I-I-!"  _Fuck. Fuck. Shit. Fuck. Shit._ Michael waves his arms around in a wild attempt to silently give context. It doesn't work.

     " _M'sorry_ ," Jeremy chokes out in a barely audible whisper. Michael's not able to stop him before he bolts out of the car and slamming it's door shut. He almost trips as he marches into the house, not able to contain the tears spilling from his cheeks. Michael wouldn't have noticed them if Jeremy hadn't taken one last look over to the PT Cruiser before closing the door behind him.

     Michael is stunned. He feels like he might hyperventilate, forcing down a sob of his own while he skids the car out of the driveway and speeds down the road, tears burning the back of his eyes. He wasn't going to let them spill. No matter how bad it hurt.

     It's a miracle he didn't get in an accident on the way home.

* * *

      Michael turns over in bed for the _nth_ time, squinting at the bright afternoon sky that dared to disrupt his "sleep". Truth be told, from the time he had ran into his bed and cried himself out, he hadn't gotten more than three hours of actual sleep. Still, he hadn't felt like moving just yet and considered never moving again.

      _I ruined everything with Jeremy. Not only do I have a huge fucking crush on him, now he thinks that I hate even the idea of him liking me._

     Yes, Jeremy was undoubtedly drunk. But the more the thought about it, the less he could recall times people lied when they were drunk.  _Usually, people more open to their emotions, if anything,_ he reasons, nodding a little to himself. Maybe Jeremy really  _did_ like him.

      _Not that it matters anyway. Not like he'll ever want to talk to me again._

     Michael's phone rings just as he tries to close his eyes again. It blares the familiar Pac-Man theme he had set for Jeremy's contact tone.

      _Maybe... He doesn't remember?_

     He answers quickly, ecstatic by the concept that his Player Two was still willing to speak with him.

     "Hey!" Michael internally winces by himself yelling into the phone.

     "...Hey,"

     Michael's heart sinks as he sits up cross legged on his unmade bed.

      _Shit._

      "How was the party?"

      "G-good, but I, uhm, was a little loopy by the time you saved my ass," Jeremy's voice sounds so  _lifeless._ Michael hopes it was just the phone.

     "Dude, do you remember anything that happened, like, after I got you?" He wedges the phone between his ear and shoulder, fiddling with his hands now that they were free.

     A pause.

     "...Bits and pieces,"

      _Double Shit._

     Another pause, quickly becoming a long moment of the two just listening to the other hurriedly breathe on the other line. Michael wants to just fucking kiss the sadness out of Jeremy. He realizes how he very well might've broken his heart in a way that he himself had feared the other doing to him.

     "Uhm, well-" Jeremy clears his throat, as if trying to wrap up the awkward conversation into an awkward bow.

      _Can't get any worse._

    "Jere-bear?" His tone is soft, almost scared. He's about to call it quits when ten seconds fly by with just dead air.

     "Mikey?"

     His breath speeds up to an almost unbearable rate and he feels like he might either pass out or scream. His face is on fire as he swallows down a nauseating lump in his chest.

      _Fuck it._

    "You're hot, too. I love you," The last part kind of falls out of his mouth, unintended to be actually spoken.

     He hangs up before Jeremy can respond.

      _"I love you, too, Michael,"_


	2. Video Games (And Being WAY Too Invested In Them)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael is thrown for a loop when he shows up to Jeremy's uninvited.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess you could technically consider this a songfic? The song is "Bohemian Groove Pt. 2 (Cremation)" by Will Connolly and I highly fuckin recommend listening to caterpillars of the commonwealth and freddie won the toss if you haven't bc will is a literal angel my boY ok anyways

     "AY-YOOO!" Michael all but kicked open the door to Jeremy's bedroom. It was an early Sunday morning, and the teen had invited himself over to his best friend's place, having nothing better to do in reality. Even if he did, why _not_ go and pass the time of a lazy day with his favorite person? He took a few steps onto the doorway with a well-rehearsed swagger from doing it god knows how many times before.

     "I brought gas station snacks and two shushies!" he holds up the bag with a flick of his wrist, which was covered entirely by bracelets and armbands. Michael's still blabbering away, running a hand through his hair. He doesn't notice a lack of response when he swings the bag around and waltzes closer to Jeremy's spot on the floor who sat just in front of his TV and leaning back against the unmade bed behind him.

     "I was thinkin' I could kick your ass in some Mario Kart and then-," that's when he realizes Jeremy hasn't even turned to acknowledge his presence. From a stretched glace over the bed, Michael can see the top of Jeremy's head, the rim of his big, clunky gaming headphones placed around it. They're turned up so loud the smaller boy could hear the music and sound effects almost as if it was playing on the TV itself. The screen shows Jeremy's character wreaking havoc around a dystopia-type world, killing zombies left and right with ease. It's a level Michael has, surprisingly, never played. He just stands there, shifting his weight to one leg, then the other, back and forth while he tries to get his Player Two's attention.

     "Oh! Is this one if the the new stages from the Apocalypse update pack?"

     Jeremy only stares into the level, blowing the guts out of ten zombies at once with the perfect grenade throw. His eyes look almost glazed over with intensity and full concentration. Michael throws the 7-Eleven bag onto the bed, still holding a cupholder of Slurpees in the other hand with a smirk.

     "Jeremy?"

     Nothing.

     "Jeeeeeeeere-Beeeeeear?"

     Nada.

     "JEREMIAH HEERE!?"

     Zip.

     Michael can't help but smirk even more, some ideas on how to get his buddy's attention popping into his brain. He sets the Slurpees onto the nightstand and clears his throat.

     "Holy shit! Is that Christine climbing through your window?!" He shouts, trying to sound as dramatic as possible, gasping and pretending to point to something crashing through the window. Holding down giggles, furrowing his brow at the lack of  _anything_ from Jeremy. Preparing for his next plan, Michael leans toward the other's back and cups his hands around his mouth.

     "JEREMY FUCKING HEERE IS A FUCKING FURRY!"

     Still, nothing from Jeremy. All he does is sway a little when making a sharp turn in-game, completely oblivious to the world around him. This only drives Michael to try even harder, laughing at his own words and jumping on top of the bed.

     "AAAAAAAH, JEREMY I'M PREGNANT HOLY FUCK!"

     "JEREMY!"

     "JEREMY I'M DYING IF YOU DON'T FUCKING HELP ME YOU'RE OFF OF MY WILL,"

     "I'M CALLING THE COPS!"

     Nothing.

     "Really?!"

     Michael lets out a frustrated huff and lands with his head hanging just over the foot of the bed, inches by Jeremy's on his left. Jeremy unknowingly scoots back a little on the floor, head pressed even more onto the end of his bed. If Jeremy had only looked to the corners of his vision, he would've seen his friend. However, his line of sight was perfectly trained on the stage in front of him, nearing the final boss. Michael figures there's only five more minutes until it's defeated. 

       _I can give 'em five minutes._

     So, he gets comfy. For a while, Michael is also entraced in the game, lazily watching Jeremy play. He notices how good Jeremy is, a stark contrast to his rather clumsy nature in real life. He notices how Jeremy would stick his tongue out every time an enemy got too close to killing him, pale hands going into a frenzy of sorts on his controller.

      _God, that was cute._

     Michael reddens a little when he realizes his attention is entirely on Jeremy's face. Jeremy doesn't seem to notice, already loading up the next level.

      _There goes five minutes,_ Michael thinks, but only shrugs, electing to just watch Jeremy as he was. So what if he's a little embarrassed? It's not everyday Michael could just straight up ogle at Jeremy without interruption.  _Savor it!_ He reminds himself, smiling at the thought. For now, he doesn't mind his own delicate breathing and butterflies performing back flips in his gut.

      _His eyes are so bright. I wish he'd sleep more though, there's always those bags under them. Woah, when's the last time he'd blinked? Oh, there he goes. Good._

_If I get close enough I can see light freckles on the bridge of his nose. I wonder if he knows how fucking adorable those are?_

_Would he notice if I touched his hair? Eh, probably._

_His lips are so cute when they curl up like that._

     Michael takes a slow blink. When he opens them, Jeremy seems to be whispering something.  _The hell?_ Tilting his head, he tries to listen into the words.

     The taller boy is still unaware of the other's presence, words practically inaudible. Intended for no one but himself. At first, Michael thinks he's just cursing at some mishap in the game.

 " _...Cremate anxiety, you've been given the key,_ "

_He's singing. He's gotta be TRYING to make my heart burst, right?_

It wasn't like he'd never heard Jeremy's singing voice, quite the opposite, actually. Jeremy had always practiced in front of Michael for upcoming high-school shows. The problem was that this time felt _different_. Like he was witnessing a secret performance for one. He leaned even further off the bed, trying not to jostle it too much. Listening closely and biting his lip.

     " _Take a hit, bro, pass it to the left, we wake and bake..._ " Jeremy trails off, killing an annoying zombie after a few attacks, leaving the rest of the verse unsung. His voice remains under his breath, yet still melodic. During that time, Michael payed no mind to anything else but Jeremy. To him, he was just floating around in the music of his one and only. Michael solemnly remembers he's just in a messy teenage bedroom, pouting a bit in an attempt to silently persuade Jeremy to continue. He starts back up a few moments later, rocking his head a bit to the beat in his mind.

     " _Tonight we'll dance like no one's watching, no one can stop us, we're the cops, the chancellors, governors, prime ministers, they're loving us..._ " A small grin dances across both their faces, Jeremy button-smashing the controller during breaths.

     " _You can't imagine all the strings we pull,_ "

     Michael sighed, wishing Jeremy was referring to him. A smaller part of him actually believed that. He manages to lean even closer, eyes level with Jeremy's. Sure to keep just out of sight. He hangs on to each word, each note, like they could disappear into the cool air at any time.

     " _Raise it up to the skies, shake the walls, the roof will rise,_ " 

     Closer. Michael wants closer. He could fall off the bed any second, but he doesn't care. His face feels like it's on fire when Jeremy sings a little louder, delicately closing his eyes, giving Michael a chance to scoot a tiny bit further, brushing against Jeremy's pale cheek with his nose.  _God, I'm so fucked when he opens them._

    " _Cremate anxiety, you've been given-,_ " Jeremy's cut off by the sudden touch, twisting his face to find the source. Michael's brain is fuzzy, practically on autopilot.

      _Why'd he stop?_ Michael can feel something on his face, more specifically his mouth. He frantically looks around, and Jeremy is centimeters from his face, eyes wide and full of shock. Facing him straight-on. If Michael was trembling any more, he would've broken the bond between them.

      _I'm kissing him._

_I'M KISSING HIM!_

Michael is about to pull away from sheer embarrassment, but is spun into another wave of stiffening fear when he feels Jeremy press into him, pulling them both even closer together.

      _And he's kissing me back._

It takes them a second to lock their faces together, learning to navigate around each other's noses and Michael's dorky glasses. Neither really has an idea of what they're doing or how to do it, exactly. All the same, they're loving every second of it. Suddenly, Jeremy yanks himself away to pull off the headphones still blaring music, clattering to the floor.

     Seconds pass, and the two just take in their appearances. Mouths agape, shining red faces, and sweaty from the surprising turn of events.

     "H-how long have you been there?" Jeremy is the first to catch his breath, but his words are still airy and confused.

     "For like, uhm, ten minutes, I, uh, I dunno," Michael finds a particularly interesting shirt on the ground to stare at instead of his friend's reaction.

     "J-Just, uh, can I say something?"

      _Fuck._

     "That was n-nice," he pauses, trying to put the right words together. "I-I just kinda wish I knew, uh, so I was ready and not so freaked?" Michael hears a small laugh following the statement, and takes it as a go-ahead to look up. Jeremy is beaming sheepishly, trying to keep his composure. "Tell me... Next time?"

      _He wants there to be a "next time". I'm either gonna scream or cry._

     Michael's beaming too, in time, and he counts to twenty in his head.

      _The slushies are probably melted by now, anyway._

     "How about now?"

     

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (top notes has stuff abt the song and me gushing abt will lol)
> 
> i have something richjake I thought about at like 3am and might plan it out who tf knows anymore,,,,,,
> 
> i realized both these chapters are boyf riends so I'd like to do some other kids next!
> 
>  
> 
> thx for reading this shit and I LOVE YOU LOTS!!♡


	3. Nail Polish (And Good Ol' Bonding)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chloe suddenly invites Michael over after-school on a snowy December day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slight angst and language ahead! (But not as much language as my usual, weird) take of these "warnings" as u wish kiddos

    "Huh, didn't think you'd actually show," Chloe shrugged, motioning for Michael to follow her down the hall of her home. Honestly, Michael didn't think he was going to show up, either. Just an hour ago he had the image of going home, getting high in his basement, and playing video games until Jeremy got back from play rehearsal.

     Instead, Michael is at Chloe's empty house after a sudden phone call from the latter, asking for him to visit after school. This alone gave the teen some form of worry, not to mention that when it came to Chloe, asking comes out more as _telling._ So, he was ultimately left to mumble out an "I'll be there" as his only other option was to decline and see whatever the popular girl could do with her... popularity-ness.

      _You're being rediculous,_ Michael sighed, scanning the room he now found himself in. Immediately he pinned it as Chloe's. It was messier than he would've imagined, clothes and various trinkets littering the space. Some part of him believed that a popular person's room would be immaculate, like out of a magazine ad. Chloe's room was anything but, cluttered to the point where she could just barely contain her belongings to avoid everything looking like a complete wreck. The entirety of one wall was covered in posters for bands and celebrities Michael didn't truely recognize.

     Chloe waltzes ahead, tapping her laptop a few times from the cluttered desk. She nods in contentment when an upbeat song Michael has never heard starts playing softly. A second passes, then she twists around to her guest, skirt fluttering smoothly with the motion.

     Meanwhile, Michael is swinging back and forth on the heels of his feet. Sure, he doesn't have a direct reason to flat out _hate_ her, but there's never been a reason to _befreind_ her either, until now. All he can remember of Chloe pre-SQUIP was seeing her in passing during changing periods, neither sharing more than an accidental glance. (Once he ran into her making out with someone in the boys restroom, though he tended to try his best and forget about that.) Now, post-SQUIPcident, the unspoken pull for some kind of friendship between them all.

     "Whelp," Chloe claps her hands together in a very commanding manner, effectively snapping Michael out of his thoughts and back to reality. She reaches over to her desk again. Now, with a shopping bag in hand, she digs through it for a moment, then points to her bed and snaps her fingers.

     "Sit,"

     Michael does as he's told, albeit giving odd glances the whole time. As far as he's concerned, Chloe is unpredictable, if maybe a little bitchy at times. (And  _bitchy_ was putting it kindly.) Chloe flops down on the bed beside him, brushing a few strands of golden brown hair out of her face. Michael pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose while he looks down to watch the taller teen pour the contents of the shopping bag onto the bed along with them.

     He is met with what looked to be about twenty bottles of nail polish, ranging from dark blues and blacks to pastel pinks and yellows, and everything in between. Chloe picks up a clear one and shakes it while clicking her tongue.

     "I need to test out some colors and I figured you'd be a good enough set of hands," she states.

      _Me? Of all people?_ The shorter boy wonders, picking at a loose thread of his hoodie. When Chloe holds out her hand, silently ordering the boy to offer his up, he doesn't hesitate as much as he thought he should.

     "Uh, sure!" He is surprised by the tinge of relief to his voice, but he's helplessly optimistic. Of all the things he was imagining could happen at the Valentine household (although, most were admittedly far-fetched and his anxiety getting the better of him), this was the least demanding.

     "Huh. I thought that would take more convincing," she only gets a halfhearted smile and shrug from the other.

     "What about Brooke?" Michael asks, eyebrows arched.

     "What about Jeremy?" She shoots back abruptly. Michael runs a hand through his hair in thought.

     "Play rehearsal? For the winter production?" He can't remember the name of _what_ exactly they'll be performing, but dismisses it as unimportant for the time and watches the brunette carefully as she starts to gloss the clear polish over his nails, zooming from nail to nail with ease.

     "Ding, ding, ding!" Chloe jeers, switching her attention to Michael's left hand, "Brooke has a newfound respect for theatre, like Jeremy, I guess," She's already done by the end of her sentence, twisting the cap back on and throwing it in the pile. Chloe doesn't wait for a response before continuing to tease.

     "Kinda why I didn't think you'd turn up at my door. Never seen you _not_ at Jeremy's side. Rich was right when he told me you were antisocial,"

     While Michael knew she didn't mean any insult with "antisocial" he couldn't hide the pang of disappoint on his face. He knew he was antisocial to an extent and practically depended on his friend for a social life, but it was still a bummer to bring up.

     "Sorry," Chloe sputters, almost monotone.

     "S'okay," he waves it off with a casual smile, "We've been friends for, like, twelve years, so we're basically inseparable," he knows he's bragging, though he can't help it when it comes to their relationship.

     "Would've _never_ guessed," she deadpans, a small smirk moving across her face. This earns the first genuine laugh from Michael since he arrived. Michael feels himself slouch a bit and loosen up when he thinks that the atmosphere was marginally less awkward. With it, he allows himself to ramble a bit while Chloe eyes the polish in front of her.

     "You're always with Brooke, though! It was sorta weird when you asked me over," he giggles, but immediately swallows his laughter when he sees Chloe's expression.

     "Is it so  _weird_ to ask to hang out?" She seethes, crossing her arms in distaste. With that, Michael feels like he's back to square one. His eyes dart around the room for anything other than Chloe to give attention to, and finds a rather interesting poster to his right.

     "I'm sorry," the response tumbles out of his mouth before he can process he's talking, and Chloe's sour expression falters a bit into... frustration? Forgiveness? Either way, it's not anger, so Michael lets out a sigh.

     "Nah, it's cool," she shuffles in her spot on the bed and adjusts the hem of her skirt. A beat of silent tension passes while Chloe tries to move the pile a bit more towards her peer. "The clear one should be dry by now,"

      Michael sprawls out his fingers to see and, sure enough, they're dry enough to do the next layer. Chloe gestures to the pile of twenty-something bottles of polish with a grin.

     "They're all new ones, so, pick your poison, Mike,"

     The boy gives a short snicker in response before asking, "Mike?" He is only given a shrug to go off of while he scans the array of colors given to him. While running his hand across the bottles, a vibrant red catches his attention, specifically because the hue was the exact shade of the cuff of his hoodie around his wrist. He grabs it with a small gasp before another bottle rolls his way from the motion of the bed. This one is a bright, pale green. Even with the rainbow of colors surrounding it, the green still manages to stick out like a sore thumb. _S_ _crew it,_ Michael figures, snatching up that one as well.

    "These," The caramel skinned boy held out the bottles to a grinning, confused Chloe. He keeps talking when she doesn't stop staring. "Like, maybe, one color on each hand? Or... something?"

    "Bold. You really want those two?"

     He eyes the polishes again, one having found their way into each hand. A bright, vibrant red with a light green almost sickly in comparison. _Bold_. He hadn't planned on painting his nails again anytime soon, but Jeremy always noticed when he did. _Jeremy's gonna like this one,_ he smirks to himself, only to forcefully stop when he remembers how, _oh yeah, Jeremy would never like me back_. He's suddenly yanked out of his world of feeling like a hopeless romantic when he hears Chloe murmur some sarcastic remark about his color choice.

     "Yeah. Like Christmas!" He cheers, thrusting the bottles into Chloe's hands. She scoffs, but can't help but grin like an idiot when starting with the green on Michael's right hand.

     "Whatever, they're  _your_ hands," she snorts, "At least now I can try two shades,"

     For a while, Michael watches Chloe's fingers move gracefully around, painting his nails like she'd done it a million times before. Unlike earlier, the hush that falls over them is friendlier, like they're not  _trying_ to fill up the will air with dumb conversation anymore. The only thing Michael can really hear is the music still coming from the laptop (another song Michael doesn't know, and he has given up on the idea of something he can identify coming on) and the now sporadic buzzing emitting from Chloe's iPhone. It's not long before he finds himself staring at the thing next to the other teen's leg. As if on cue, it stops getting notifications to allow only a small window of time before the pristine, uncracked screen ( _How in the hell?_ Michael's thoughts swirl into a bit of a tangent when it reminds him of his own... _flawed_ screen protector) cuts to black. He scans it quickly, trying to make it look like he's just _naturally_ straining his line of sight for no reason. Michael is barely able to make out a contact name, "Brooke", before the lights cut out on the phone. His gaze snaps back to Chloe when she presses his hand with a little too much force in order to right it. She's all the way up to his left pinky now, the red looking just as pigmented as it did in the bottle.

     "Stop moving your hands, dude!" She orders, almost under her breath. Michael still manages to hear, scooting back a little.

     "S'cold!" he playfully argues. Chloe hums in agreement, picking at some polish that had smeared off of Michael's nail. In record time, she's done with the color and reaches for the clear bottle once more. He observes the colors, really liking how they clashed together but somehow matched perfectly. With the conversation warming up again, he tries to keep it going.

     "Uh, I never pegged you as someone to use an _alien_ green like this," he comments, observing the color on him while she untwists the cap.

      "I'm not," she states matter-of-factly, before sighing. Her mouth hangs agape for a moment, as of she wants to continue. It opens and closes a few times, before keeping it closed and starting on Michael's nails again. The other shrugs, too lightly for Chloe to see, and decides to let her work in quiet. Her phone buzzes again, and Michael wonders if she can hear it over the vocals of some boy band she lightly bobs her head to.

_She has to, if I can. Why doesn't she answer?_

The song ends just as Chloe finishes up her masterpiece, eyes narrow in concentration only to morph into a solemn happiness of sorts.

    "It's for Brooke. The polish, that is,"

    "Wow, that's real nice of you. How's she, anyway?" He's genuine, eager to find out if she's as surprisingly tolerable as Chloe has proven herself to be. Her face contorts, eyebrows furrowing.

     "Yeah, well-" she looks like she's digging through her brain for an insult, deflection, something. "Ugh!" Her knees swing up to her chest, causing the bottles of polish to all roll a small distance with an unpleasant clatter. Her head falls, hiding herself from Michael, who is wondering what I'm the hell he did to make her react the way she did.

      _Back to square fucking one. Again._

     If he wasn't an anxious mess before, he is now. Careful not to smear the nail polish, he pulls on the same thread from earlier untit it snaps off. What was he supposed to be doing? He couldn't even apologize that well, considering he couldn't even piece togther what he had done wrong. Twice today, Chloe had gone from zero to a hundred, opening herself up a bit just only to snap shut at any moment. The only tie between the two outbursts was when he had mentioned Brooke.  _Wasn't she, like, her best friend?_ Michael was thrown for another loop when he gets the small idea that they could be fighting. Friends fight sometimes, right?  _Ugh, if that was the case why would she be buying her nail polish?_ Chloe is looking up now, her face is slightly flushed, although her eyes show no signs of crying. Her eyes pierce right through Michael, seemingly lost in thought. Michael feels a stab of guilt. He knows that look. He knows that feeling.

      _Shit._

_I could be wrong._

He studies Chloe's face for a minute or two, not doubting that she wasn't paying any mind to him.

     _No, that's the look._

     _Chloe has a crush on Brooke?_

    He feels guilty for reminding her of Brooke, even if he didn't know. He remembers feeling like that not too long ago. Nowadays, he's able to push that feeling far enough into his gut to talk about Jeremy and interact with him as freely as ever, but that wasn't the case two months ago. He'd begun to untangle his feelings for his player two midway through October, just before the shit that Jeremy called "getting his upgrade". When Michael went through the lovesick phase of "I can't talk to them, about them or _think_ about them without getting a stomachache", Jeremy was avoiding him, cutting off all interaction between the two for what felt like eternity to Michael. In a twisted way, he was lucky. He didn't have to see the source of the constant butterflies in his stomach and swallow the pain as he would if his life were normal at the time. If he really wanted, he could've written off his crush as anger for his buddy straight-up abandoning him. No matter how hard he had tried, though, he still knew the truth: he was in pure and absolute furious tears over his best friend of twelve years who left him with nothing, yet still _loved_ nevertheless more than ever before.

     Eventually, he was able to convince himself (with the aid of Mr. Heere) to go and make things right with the Mountain Dew Red,  _thank god._

_Thank fucking god._

He stops thinking while he's ahead, new thoughts coming in about the problem at hand. Michael's issues don't matter to him at the moment, because Chloe's dealing with that phase now. Where she sees Brooke everyday and talks to on what Michael guesses is usually a daily basis.

     "Chlo?" His voice is soft, and he's reaching over to grab Chloe's shoulder. She shakes a bit with the sudden touch.

     "Shit. You're not supposed to see me like this," She shakes her head and winces, trying to pull herself together, and does fairly well to Michael's surprise. She sits up, breath unnaturally even. She gives a smile, but it doesn't reach her eyes and Michael can tell she's biting her lip.

     "Y'know..." He decides to play it suave, almost as glaringly fake as her grin. He grips her shoulder a bit tighter to stop her from swaying. "We have more in common than you think,"

     "A love of nail polish?" Her words are feuled by sarcasm. Michael shakes his head, too far ahead of himself to stop what he's about to confess.

     "We're both pining after our best friends,"

     To Michael, it doesn't sound like he said it at all, like it was some disembodied voice stating the obvious. He's just as shocked and red as Chloe becomes, to her frustration. She's mad, but more at herself than anything. Her hands shake, and she bounces a little in her place. For the first time, someone has seen Chloe Valentine at a loss for words.

    "I don't- Wait, you?- Ugh, fuck- I'm not- Shit!"

     Her efforts to make a coherent sentence are quickly stopped by Michael through a much-needed hug. Chloe's still pissed as hell, scatterbrained, and wishing there was some alcohol around, so it takes her a good ten seconds before giving into the gesture. It's nice and warm once the taller girl falls into it, letting her head rest on Michael's shoulder. Meanwhile, the other is internally screaming  _WHY DID I SAY THAT?! SHE KNOWS! FUCK!_ over and over again to the point where Michael pulls back looks her dead in the face, panic coating his almond eyes. 

     "D-don't tell anyone! Especially not Jeremy! Uhm, not especially 'cause I don't want anyone to know equally! Well, uh, I mean, like-,"

     Chloe, somehow still level headed enough to keep up her façade of coolness despite watery eyes, cuts him off. She falls back onto the bed, leaning on her palms.

     "Pssh, as if! That's something you have to do yourself,"

     A breath Michael doesn't remember holding escapes him, and he can feel his knees shaking despite not even standing.

     "Also, if you tell anyone about _me,_ you will not _live_ to admit your love to Jeremy,"

     The seriousness in her voice combined with the utter mess the two are found in, Michael can't help but laugh at her words. Chloe, to her own shock, joins in too and soon they're both cackling together like they were just told the funniest joke in the universe. Chloe drops backward, back against her mattress and headband askew.

     "Your secret is safe with me," Michael assures her, pulling his phone out of his pocket. Play rehearsal was going to be over in just under five minutes. He stands, legs still a little wobbly. Chloe gives a smirk, and he notes how her _real_ smiles are smaller and causes her eyebrow to twitch a bit.

     "...Unless there's, like, an _emergency_ ," he skips out of the room with a giggle before Chloe can get up to follow him.

     " _WHAT?!_ "

     Michael has already bounded his way down to the front door while he fishes for the keys in his hoodie pocket. He finds them just as Chloe is within ten feet of him, looking like she doesn't know whether to scream or laugh.

     "MICHAEL  _FUCKING_ MELL, YOU BETTER BE KIDDING!"

"THANKSFORDOINGMYNAILSTHEYLOOKREALGOODOKAYBYECHLOEEEEE!" With that, Michael slams the door and runs to his car with a spring in his step, snickering the entire way to the PT Cruiser.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Firstly, let me say that I'm _truely_ sorry for my inactivity. I've had some MAJOR writer's and artist's block and just some stuff goin on in my life sooo yea.... However I wanna discipline myself to write more consistently, so I'm working to update weekly or bi weekly or something constant!! 
> 
> (But not nessicarilly on _this fic_ a new one may be underway but shshshsh u didn't hear it from me)
> 
> \----------
> 
> GIVE ME PINING CHLOE OR GIVE ME DEATH
> 
> GIVE ME A MIKEY AND CHLOE FRIENDSHIP OR GIVE ME DEATH
> 
> \----------  
> Thanks for reading my bullshit! Drop a comment or a critique! (And thanks soo much if you cared to read my notes this far down?!!)
> 
> Have a good day, lovelies! Ur beautiful ♡


	4. Dogs (And Having One Follow You To School)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The title says it all for this one, kiddos. ^-^

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally getting around to a RichJake one! Hopefully I did the ship justice, even if its not /too/ romantic this go-round. 
> 
>  
> 
> Slight weed mention near the beginning, if that matters to any if you lovelies.

     Rich leaned against the cold stone brick of one of the school's exterior walls. A smell of cafeteria breakfast hung heavily in the air, strtching out as far as the quickly-filling parking lot he was watching with half-lidded eyes. While other students were shuffling by, hurring to whatever school business they had, the freckled boy stayed put. Waiting. The soft breeze from the fleeting cold front was crisp and refreshing on his face (Part of him wished he had a jacket or something instead of the old muscle tee draped over him).  It was nice, if a bit weird to stand alone, silent, while groups of kids passed by, gossiping and complaining about how they were tired. Nowadays, Rich cared less about how he might look weird, or say something unorthodox. Jake should be walking up any minute now, anyway. 

     Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of a tall figure in the distance, stepping down the well-worn sidewalk. As if something just switches in his brain, his mood goes from content to ecstatic.

     "Jakey D!" Rich cries, pushing his back off the wall and pulling his hands out of his pockets. "What up?"

     He watches as the figure, confirmed to be Jake via the lazy wave back at him, stumbles a bit and waves the shorter boy over. He's still a good distance away, the motions fuzzy and hard to make out from the pouring sunlight from the rising sun giving off a dangerous glare to anyone who stared faintly in its direction. Still, the gesture received a raised eyebrow and smirk from Rich, followed by a light jog to just outside school property.

     "What'th happenin'?" he calls once he's a few feet away. The whole time, his eyesight is trained on Jake's face, trying to gather any information on why he had called him over. The dark-haired teen is uncharacteristically quiet and fidgety, teal eyes darting down seconds after eye contact. This only concerns Rich more, stomping over and shoving his face close to the other boy's, looking up with a small pout in study of his features.

     "Ith thomething wrong?" The suspicion is upfront in his voice. He rocks on the balls of his feet and flashes a cocky smile. "Or thomeone?! I'm down to fight whoever-"

     "No! Nothing is  _wrong,_ per se..." Jake steps back a little. He holds his hands up in an effort to calm his friend, only to end up rubbing them together. Whether it was the cold or nerves, Rich couldn't tell. He thinks he hears an underclassman scurry past, but he doesn't care to look because he's too intrigued by his best friend dancing around whatever his problem is.

     "But I do have a bit of an...  _accessory..._ that, like, may or may not be prohibited at school?"

     Moments pass, the only noise filling the air being faint rufflings of leaves and more pitter-patters on the pavement of squirrels, most likely.

    "I didn't know you thmoke," Rich lowers his guard to give his friend a light jab to the chest, continuing the friendly tease. "Michael must've gotten to you, huh? Pfft, don't worry, no one'th gonna find your weed-"

     "Ugh! No, dude!" The taller boy sways, pulling on his sports jacket. A small grin etches its way onto his face.

     "Look around, doofus,"

     Rich starts pretend to look offended, gasp and all, only to be interrupted by a sensation of something touching his leg.

     Something  _wet_ on his leg.

     "ARGH!"  Rich practically leaps backward from the sudden cold against his already chilly calf. He ignores Jake's attempts of choking down a laugh, opting to take a look at whatever had spilled on him.

     Turns out, nothing had spilled.

     Turns out, there was a scruffy little  _dog_ between Jake and himself that had licked his leg.

     Turns out, Rich loves dogs almost as much as Jake does.

     "H-holy thit!" he gasped, honey-colored eyes wide and practically glowing. Rich immediately drops to his knees, adoring the mutt that bounds over to his lap with a small bark. A few more snickers are heard from above before the other boy sits as well, hugging his knees. Millions of  _What? Why? How?_  questions are bouncing around Rich's head. None of that white noise, however, blocks out either kid's need to love that dog, and now.

     They spend a solid minute just letting the animal run from one to the other, getting ear scratches and giving kisses. Admittedly, it looked like it was covered in dirt and had lived on the streets its entire life. Other kids were probably staring. But none of that mattered to Rich or Jake, because _Look how bright gold its fur is!_ and _If it wags its tail any harder it might pop off!_

     "She followed me over here when I left for school and I couldn't get her to stop... Like, just _look_ at her!" Jake explains, giving her a boop on the nose. Her flopped ears perk up in a way that makes him swear that she knew they were talking about her.

     "I _am_! Thith gal must really love you," Rich pulls the word "love" a little longer than intended, and prays his bud didn't notice. To his relief, he only receives a shrug.

     "Well...," Jake winces, watching the dog plop to the concrete for a belly rub, "It's kinda my fault, bro. I had seen her just running around the neighborhood with nobody. Even thinner than she is now," he points out how small her tummy is, earning a solemn nod from Rich. "So I started feeding her and I guess that escalated to her, like, following me whenever I'm outside,"

     Rich glances up to Jake, who stares down at the tiny thing with a pout. The former's brows begin to arch, swinging an arm over to meet the latter's shoulder.

     "Doeth the have a name?" His question is hopeful. Jake waits until the dog is finished jumping after a falling leaf and his eyes trail around the parking lot to finally meet Rich's.

     "No, 'cause I read online that, like, if I name her there's a bigger chance I'll get attached, or, something like that," he sighs, leaning back.

     The smaller teen lightly chuckles, sitting crisscrossed now and playing with his shoelace. "Thorry, dude, but it lookth like it'th too late to not be attatched," 

     Sure enough, the mutt squirms onto Jake's lap as he falls into the rhythm of light strokes down her back. Scooting closer, Rich can see that there is a saddness in the details of the other's expression. He leans into Jake's space, his hands pressing against the other boy's thigh with a slight tremor. The air around him feels like it's gone still, stagnant.

     "...Why don't you keep her?" 

     "I _can't_ ," Jake's reply is too quick for his liking. "My parents would kill me if they found out I brought in a stray without them knowing, and, like, wouldn't even let me keep her if I did ask," he laments. Rich can feel his face heat up in a mix of confusion, anger, (and the intimacy the two found themselves sharing on the school sidewalk, weirdly enough).

     "What? They're never even fucking home for you!" Rich bolts upright, balling his hands into fists. He doesn't have time to be baffled from towering his giant of a friend for once before said giant stands too, the scraggly looking animal still cradled in his arms.

     "It's their business-" Jake doesn't get a chance to protest before Rich cuts him off, hotheaded and cheeks tinged red.

     "It'th  _bullthit_!" Rich stomps on the cuss, internally morning the fact that the dog had jumped from the gesture. On the outside, he only shows distain. "You don't detherve to be thrown to the curb to be left _alone_ while they go off on work tripth!"

     "Richard-," Jake has to take a breath in between his sentence, setting the dog down on the concrete again. It takes every ounce of power in his bones to ignore her whimper. "It's fine. That's just how-,"

     He's cut off for the second time in a row by the school bell blaring into the sky. His head snaps around, not one other student to be seen, save for Rich who also looks around. They're late for homeroom.

     "Fine," Rich says though gritted teeth. Jake sighs while the other runs a hand through his red-streaked hair, almost faded into oblivion. Swinging his backpack around his other arm, Jake starts to trugde to class, wondering if people would be able to tell that he felt like crying. As much as he wanted that sweet little thing, he wanted his parents to resent him less than he thought they did in the first place. He huffs, picking up the pace and working to change the subject completely.

     "Hey, what was the homework for Ms.-,"

     There is a big nothing beside Jake where Rich should be. Actually, he's no where close to him. The brunette figures he couldn't have gone far.

     "Rich?!" He calls, twisting around on his heel. Rather quickly he's able to pinpoint the one other figure on the sidewalk as Rich. Only problem was, said figure was walking _away_ from the school. "Richard!"

     The teen breaks into a sprint, appreciating his athleticism for getting himself withinn five steps of the other. in ten seconds flat. The big droopy eyes of the pup come out from Rich's pale arms (and lightly dotted with burn scars, Jake notes. He shakes his head, trying to keep another bottle of emotions closed for the time being).

     "Bro, where the hell are you going?" Jake pants, face contorted. Rich only shrugs like it's the most casual affair.

     "I'm bailing thcool to go home, and then maybe the Petco or thomeplace like that," A small, barely noticable ghost of a smile plasters onto his face. Jake's face falls even more, if that's possible. He lets out an embarrassing groan.

     "Dude, she can't live at my place-"

     "Which ith why-" (Jake wonders if he should start tallying all the times he's gotten cut off that day) "our girl ith gonna live with me," he grips the dog a little tighter when she says "our girl" and a real toothy smile takes over his face with pride. Jake is left to open and close his mouth a few times. When his friend notices he isn't going to say anything, he continues, stopping his waltz down the street to face Jake directly.

     "Think about it. You're at my houthe all the fuckin' time anyway! And I have to admit, the's rubbing off on me, too. We can both take care of her. We'll figure it out. Think of it ath... joint cuthtody!"

     Jake doesn't know whether to screech with joy or fire back an argument for why Rich shouldn't have to explain to his dad why they have a new member of the household. He figures he was taking too long to answer, because Rich bites his lip and says one last thing.

     "Jake, let me do thith for you, 'kay?"

     Neither teen has time to process the hug that materializes instants later. Jake doesn't hold Rich as tight as he wants to, mindful of the now his-  _their!-_ dog in between them. Rich feels intimately warmer and tucks his head into the other's shoulder. It's ended all too soon when said dog licks Jake's chin midway through, and Rich is worries she'll jump down if she gets any more hyped up.

     "Thank you," Jake almost breathes the words, a thousand times quieter and timid than his usual tone. This voice, he saves for Rich's ears only now.

     Walking slowly, the atmosphere sets onto the boys. The street is silent, almost void of life completely except for the occasional car zooming past. A stillness as eerie somehow becomes bliss while the dust of events metaphorically settle.

     Rich is the first to start talking again. "We're gonna have to figure out a name for our child, y'know,"

     Jake playfully slaps his back, giggling. "Gonna have to give 'er a bath, too. Oh! Food, and, like, treats! And I saw these real cute doggie beds the other day online..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This dog has two dads and they both love her. ♡
> 
> New drinking game: take a shot everytime Jake says, "like" Sorry if that bugged you, I just like to think it would be a thing with him! Sorry also if me doing Rich's lisp phonetically bugged you, as well. 
> 
> In unrelated news, I accidentally thought up a fluffy/angsty hospital au for boyf reinds but idk if I'll keep planning it due to the fact that hospital aus are everywhere.... But who knows ^-^
> 
> Next up: good old tooth rotting fluff ;)
> 
> Thank u for reading my bullshit stories! Ily!!!


	5. Sleepless Nights (And 3AM Froyo)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeremy can't sleep, but luckily Christine is to the rescue.

**Chris**

_GO TO SLEEP RIGHT NOW JEREMIAH!!!!!!!!!_

Jeremy chuckled at his phone, rolling over in bed while he smirked.  After reading her reply, he tossed it beside him and stared at his ceiling. Well, he stared where the ceiling would be. The pitch black filling the room made it damn near impossible to see anything further than a few inches from his face. For a few moments, the only thing the teen could hear was his own breathing, feeling louder by the second. _Christine shoudn't be this worried,_ Jeremy thought,  _nights like this are normal._  He squirms in the bed and shuts his eyes, not believing for a second that he'd actually sleep. No, tonight was one of those "my brain is too cramped with thoughts and worries that are more important than sleep" nights.Jeremy knew he'd regret it in the morning when he had to leave for school, but after countless nights like this, there was no point in fighting. A timid  _ping_ from his cell phone reminds him of the ongoing argument with Christine, squinting against the harsh artificial light as he opened the text.

**Chris**

_Are you asleep now? You better not answer._

    He can practically hear his friend's eyes roll when he starts typing away.

**Me**

_its only like 243 in the morning_

_ill be fine_

**Chris**

_Do you even hear yourself rn?_

**Me**

_no cause im texting_

**Chris**

_Don't sass me!!!!_

**Me**

_¯\\_(ツ)_/¯_

**Chris**

_Yknow what? That's it._

    This caused a puzzled expression to wipe across the boy's face. He curled up a little, rubbing his legs together while he tried to think up a response that didn't make him sound as worried as he actually was. With Christine Canigula, you never know what to expect.

**Me**

_lmao what_

**Chris**

_I'm omw!!!!_

**Me**

whAT

**Chris**

_Get dressed!! :)_

**Me**

_what????_

_chris no_

_Christine?_

_IM SLEEPING LOOK_

_....welp_

_C H R I S T I N E_

 

     With an exasperated sigh, Jeremy realized she was done answering by his sixth text left on read. He's not getting out of this. 

* * *

     In five minutes exactly, Jeremy finds himself in the smaller teen's car with an oversized t-shirt and gym shorts. Christine is about as formal as him, sleek black leggings and a sweatshirt that had some musical logo plastered on it. 

     "Uh, what's up with this?" Jeremy asks, placing his hands awkwardly in his lap. Christine makes the engine roar to life once more as she pulls out of the Heere driveway with a smirk. He watches how her deep brown hair looks almost like a navy blue in the moonlight pouring in through the windshield.  _Wait, is that okay to think?_ Sure, the two had broken up on truly mutual terms, but Jeremy was still apprehensive to ensure he doesn't fuck up their newfound friendship. He'd never really had anyone besides Michael for as long as he could remember. Now, he had not only one new friendship to uphold, but six. Just yesterday Michael had lemented it as, "Quite the overload for the socially-inept such as themselves". He wholeheartedly agreed.

     "Don't worry, I'm not kidnapping you or anything. You seem...tense," Christine gives him a glare, and he realizes that he was mindlessly rubbing circles on the back of his palm.

     "Agree to disagree," the pale teen jokes, mustering up a weak laugh.

     "About how I'm not kidnapping you, or how you look tense?"

     "Y-Yeah!"  _Shit, that's not an answer._

     Jeremy figures his outburst was more funny than embarrassing when Christine snickers, trying as hard as she can to keep her eyes on the road. Trees and houses that fly past become a glittering ensemble of bright signs, street lights and more cars rushing past.

     "You didn't answer my question, Chris," He twists his attention to his ex.  _God, it was so weird to think of her as that._ A normally jittery and eager grin is replaced with lips pressed into a thin line. Bright, expressive eyes are now half-lidded and slated over with a haze. Jeremy leans over. "Christine?"

     "Huh?! I didn't? Oh," She turns the car into the next inlet. A fluorescently lit sign that towers above reads  _PinkBerry! Frozen Treats._ Well, that answers where they were going. Christine let's out a long breath before continuing.

     "You were awake, I was awake. Neither of us seemed to be sleeping soon. I don't know, guess I didn't really have a plan," she chuckles a bit at the last part, pulling into the barren parking lot. Jeremy only blinks a few times, at a loss for words. Every move the smaller girl made seemed distant, like she was able to hold the conversation but 90% of her mind was elsewhere. A voice inside him urges,  _friends help friends._ He wants to, but doesn't have a clue where to start.  _Keep it simple?_

     "W-what's the matter?" Jeremy whispers, placing a hand on her arm. Her hands fly off the steering wheel from the sudden tough.  _Ugh, why did I do that?_

"I just-," she take a sharp inhale, twisting the car off while they sit in the lot. "hope that we end up staying friends. In movies, they always say, 'oh, we can continue a relationship as friends' and it never works out. I don't want that to happen," 

      _Damn, took the words right out of my mouth,_ is what Jeremy wants to say. Instead, he can only tap his foot and dart his eyes around the small car. Ever since he was a sophomore, all he wanted was to get with Christine. After the fiasco junior year, he snagged a few dates with her. For barely a month.

     When it started, they seemed to fit together perfectly. Christine's hopeless optimism played well against his own worries, and she had dragged him into theater, something Jeremy had oddly enough come to love. Their interactions were everything Jeremy had hoped and more. Once they had started trying more "romantic" was when things got awkward. After their second kiss it was silently decided neither were feeling anything, if a bit shaken from the rush and nerves. Jeremy started to miss when they could just  _talk_ and laugh instead of every shared moment bear a looming reminder he had to do girlfriend-y things with his girlfriend.

     Christine was the one to bring up how they weren't working out. After a long and awkward "date", Christine had told him she was aroace. A mutual, quiet breakup followed.

     "C-can we still be friends?" Jeremy remembers choking out in front of a run-down coffee shop. Christine jumped to immediately shout an "Of course!"

     It wasn't as easy to fall back into their inside jokes and casualness shared before. Even if it was only three weeks ago.

     Jeremy is brought back to the present when the awkward silence pressing onto the two is deafening. He wants to say something, anything remotely helpful. His brain, not the best under pressure, rambles over his words.

     "I-I like you better as a best friend th-than a g-girlfriend,"

     The girl hums quietly, picking at something under her nail.

     "We'll work it out," he assures her, surprised by his own confedence. "M-maybe we just need t-time?"

     Christine weakly smiles, fingers drumming on the steering wheel. "You're right," her smile grows, deep brown eyes shining.

     "Ya think so? 'C-cause I didn't really know where I was going with that," the boy scoffs, rubbing the nape of his neck. Christine giggles, swinging open the driver's door.

     "I know so. C'mon, dork, let's go get some 3AM froyo,"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> >>> YO REAL QUICK!! Idk if I like how this chapter came out, it's the first time I've posted something that didn't have a detailed outline, so tell me your thoughts? 
> 
> Sorry this chapter is shorter than usual. Writers block is the worst, but gotta power thru it or whatever.
> 
> Thank you for all the love this has gotten?????!!!! I'm like 99% sure my heart has MELteD from all the kind messages!!!! 
> 
> I have nothing else to say, really, except to kudos n shit if you liked it! Or better yet, comment if you feel so inclined!


	6. Ugly Sweaters (And the SQUIP)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeremy prepares for a Christmas party. He gets some unsolicited advice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Teensy weensy warnings for language and angst! Make of this warning as you will.
> 
> [psa please give Jeremy more love and character. almost positive I didn't do him justice but hey, practice is practice.]

     Jeremy stared harder into the mirror. Maybe if he just stared hard enough, he might look better. The reflection is fuzzy from the glaze of condensed steam covering it, but he doesn't care. How long does he have until he had to get there, anyway? He slides a hand down his pocket, pressing onto his phone. 6:46 PM. Fourteen minutes until the Christmas party's official start.

     Shit. He groans and runs a hand through his still-damp hair. Maybe he shouldn't go. There's still time to bail. He watches his refection with a sigh. Why did he agree to go in the first place? The whole plan was spur-of-the-moment, clumsily made, and lacking any true details besides a promise of food and dress code.

     "Consider this: We all have to wear one of those ugly Christmas sweaters!" Christine had yelled to the group that chilly December afternoon. Laughs and teasing comments ensued, save for Jeremy. His thoughts were elsewhere. Specifically on the cold breeze that chased the group down the courtyard.

       _God, I'm shivering so much. What if I walked faster? No, then they'll notice and think I'm trying to leave. But if I don't get somewhere warmer I'll keep shaking and they're all gonna think about how much of a fucking beanpole I am. Frail. Weak._

     Turns out, a good dose of embarrassment can stop shivering. _Who knew?_

     "Jere? See us at seven? My place?" Jake taps his shoulder, a concerned glare on his face. Jeremy could swear that he could feel the flurries of snow melt around him as his face flushed.

     "Uhm, y-yeah!" _Stupid fucking stutter._

     Now, he stands in his bathroom, still humid from the shower just minutes before. And  _still_  trying to accept that, yes, he looks decent enough to go. Right?

      First, his face. There's some new blemishes starting to form around, and he pouts with the conclusion that there isn't much he can do on a short notice like this. A faint redness paints over the bridge of his nose. The price to pay for such an insainely hot and time-consuming shower. Not to mention bags under his eyes and pale complexion.

     However, that doesn't cause nearly as much anxious thoughts than the infamous ugly sweater itself. Draping over his body and about two sizes too big ( _"I'll grow into it" my ass)_. At this point, half of the threads are either gone or torn. Even so, the sweather still manages to retain its obnoxiously bright red and green stripes. To anyone else, it's the spitting image of an "ugly Christmas sweater". To Jeremy, it's just another source of worry to fan the flames of the Overthinking Express.

       _This counts as an ugly sweater, yeah? Or is this too ugly and stupid? I should change. But then I might be the only one not in a funny sweater! I'll kill the mood! Sweater stays on, then. But what if no one else is gonna wear one? Christine suggested it,  but no one explicitly agreed. What if everyone laughs? Damn, they're gonna remember why I was never friends with them in the first place. Or worse, everyone's gonna think of the Halloween party, and Michael... And Rich... Fuck..._

     "Perhaps I can be of assistance?"

  
     This is the last thing Jeremy needs. He knows that voice all too well.

     _Thought I told you to fuck off, remember? You can't control be anymore._

    "Yes, I missed you too," they deadpan, voice dripping with confidence. Jeremy stumbles backward, ready to bolt to the fridge.

     "Of course, you seem to be doing a _swell_ job of dragging your peers down on your own," the SQUIP continues to snicker.  It echoes throughout Jeremy's head, resulting in a sharp wince and body searching for a visual. They're nowhere to be seen.

      _Shut up. That's not true._

The SQUIP lets out a entertained scoff. In his best effort to ignore it, Jeremy checks the time again.

       6:51 PM. Damn. If he goes now, Jeremy figures he can make it on time. His hand is only able to make it an inch above the steel doorknob before the SQUIP speaks again.

     "I see you are still going. Bold move, Jeremiah. Do you really wish to put yourself through all this? Say the word, and I will gladly put my software to use. As you may know, there has been a recent sale on Christmas attire at-"  

     "Shut _up_!" The teen blurts aloud. The SQUIP is so loud, he can feel his head pounding with every electronic breath coming from that cursed Tic-Tac.

     _Michael, Christine, everyone..._  he protests, more to himself than the supercomputer,  _they all like me for who I am._

     "Really, now? By the way, you might want to watch your tone. We do not want your father storming down here, do we?" A droning buzz becomes an unbearable static.

     That's it. Jeremy knows all too well that any second, they could load up their visual Keanu Reeves self. He needs to drown them with Red before they can get any stronger. No matter what it says.

      _The loudest voice is mine. Loudest voice is mine. Me. Not you._

     To his shock, the SQUIP doesn't argue as he stomps over to the fridge in panting breaths.

_Like I'm ever gonna listen to you. Not again._

     A bottle of ketchup slams onto the ground from a violent swing of the refrigerator door. As if the only thing Jeremy needs is more fucking noise.  The cap of his second to last bottle of Mountain Dew Red pops off with shaking hands.

      "Keep telling yourself that. Just keep in mind how pitiful that voice of yours truely is,"

     _Pitiful. Frail. Weak._

     For a spit second, he pauses. The bottle is tilted, centimeters away from his mouth. All he has to do is drink it. He hesitates. His whole state of mind and being feels frozen, trapped in a whirlwind of thought.

    "That is what I thought," the SQUIP chuckles, the sound almost knocking out of Jeremy's skull. He bites his cheek in pain to stop any movement. No matter what, he can't loose hold of this bottle.

     "You do not deserve a better self. Yet, here I am, offering it to you. Who wouldn't want a better you?"

       _I'm better without you._

     "The world deserves a better you. I can make you into anything. Everything,"

     Jeremy's hands tremble even more. Dark brown curls of hair stick to a sweaty forehead as he can only watch some Red spill over the bottle and onto the floor with splashes that hit like shards of glass. He sees blue shining over the rim of the bottle. Shit.

     " _Michael_ deserves a better you. Do you not think so?" The SQUIP, now visible to the terrified boy, gives a faux frown before adjusting his tie. The statement snaps Jeremy back to reality.

     The name stings.He doesn't deserve Michael. Michael doesn't deserve him. But the least he can do is keep the technological demon out of his life. Out of Michael's life.

       _Michael doesn't deserve a SQUIPed me._   _He's expecting me at that party._

     With that, he chugs the bottle.

     Immediately, the physical form of the SQUIP begins to fade. Although, a sickeningly sweet grin glows from their face for a moment too long.

     _"Have fun at the Halloween Party 2.0"_

     Jeremy tries to catch his breath as his skipping heart aches from their words.

     One beat.

     Two beats.

     The SQUIP is gone completely now.

     His home is eerily quiet.

     Jeremy falls to the floor, tears streaming down his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, not every chapter can be as happy as I would like them to be. Also I want more Jeremy centric shit kiddos  
>   
> This collection is to practice and learn, so I figured why not try and actually put some fucking emotion in my writing????  
>   
> I've never written angst like this before, so tell me how I did!  
>   
> Thanks so MUCH if you've actually read this far (idk how interesting these are soooo)  
>   
> ♡I LOVE you for reading this bullshit, comment n kudos n shit if you feel so inclined!! (I'm not exaggerating when I say I get so fucking elated when I get a response. Makes me wanna just scream lmao)♡

**Author's Note:**

> **don't be afraid to critique me! one of the reasons I'm doing this is to improve on writing different scenerios n characters n shit.**
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> **♡Lemme know what I did right, wrong, or something in between!!♡**  
>  Also! If you got a request, feel free to tell me!!  
> ily ♡


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